


Rising of the Second Sun

by theartofbeinganerd



Series: Birthday Fics [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Babies, Birthdays, F/M, Fluff, Future, Post Season Four, Sci-Ops Era, Weddings, pre-Season One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartofbeinganerd/pseuds/theartofbeinganerd
Summary: A series of important birthdays Fitz has experienced over the years that have each changed the course of his life irrevocably.*Academy Era through sometime post Season Four





	Rising of the Second Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on this quote: “Most of us can remember a time when a birthday - especially if it was one’s own - brightened the world as if a second sun has risen.” - Robert Staughton Lynd
> 
> Fun fact: Pierre Curie’s birthday is today, meaning that section of the story would actually be taking place today - and also that I’ve gone twenty-one years without realizing his birthday was May 15th too?? Well, here’s to me and you, Pierre!

Two and a half months.

It’s been two and a half months since Fitz first laid eyes on Jemma Simmons, who is twenty-three days younger than him and the holder of two PhDs and a dizzying intellect. In all his life, Fitz has never before been intimidated by someone smarter than him (likely because he’s never met anyone who even comes _close_ ), and he has _no idea what to say to her_.

When they were paired together in chem class, he’d seen it as the perfect opportunity to show her that he’s just as smart as her and they could get on quite well. But, nothing in his life is ever that easy, and he may have the perfect opportunity, but the perfect _words_ are nowhere to be found.

By circumstance, it just so happens that is on Marie Curie’s birthday that Fitz is in chem class, sitting silently beside Jemma and silently running through, then quickly shooting down, a list of clever things he could say to her, much like he does every other day.

But, today is different. Today, Jemma seems to be frustrated with their current assignment, muttering under her breath as she tries to figure her way around an issue that’s stopping her from completing it. It hits Fitz with all the subtly of a lightning strike that _he_ has already solved that particular issue.

He hesitates a couple of times, so afraid to speak the words now that he actually has them. What if she still doesn’t think he’s smart enough to be her friend? What if she wants to figure it out for herself and is upset with him for intervening? What if she just doesn’t like him, and nothing he says will change her mind?

But, in the end, Fitz decides that taking the chance on becoming friends with Jemma Simmons is worth the risk, so he clears his throat, gaining her startled attention. “Um, you’re actually, uh…you’re going about that wrong.”

Jemma blinks a couple of times, seeming completely caught off-guard, either by the words themselves, or the fact that they’ve come out of _his_ mouth after he’s spent the last couple of months non-verbal. “What?” she finally manages to ask.

“Well, you see…” Fitz slides his paper across the desk toward her, pointing to the complicated math he’d done to solve the issue, explaining in uncertain stops and starts how he’d figured it out. When he’s finished, he chances a worried glance up at her, and finds her staring at his paper blankly.

He swallows thickly, feeling his cheeks begin to warm in embarrassment as he takes his paper back. Just as he’s preparing to apologize, Jemma blurts out, “Fitz, that’s brilliant!”

Fitz swears he stops breathing for a moment, his heart skipping a beat, everything seeming to freeze for that infinite moment as he wonders if _Jemma Simmons_ has really just told him he’s brilliant. _That can’t possibly be right_.

“It…it is?” he asks, because he’s heard the words before, but never believed them, the mantra of “not enough” always drowning them out in his head. But to hear _Jemma_ speak them, to know that she is the most brilliant person he’s ever met, and yet she thinks _he’s_ brilliant as well –

It’s _life-changing_.

“Yes, of course!” Jemma is beaming, and Fitz can’t believe she’s bestowing such a sunny smile on _him_. And then, she starts rambling on about the genius of his solve, how she can’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before, how she’d love to bounce _other_ ideas and issues off of him, and it can’t be real but she’s _still_ talking to him. And she seems _excited_ about it.

Fitz, still floundering in his complete disbelief, tries to keep up with her, and they end up spending the rest of class chattering back and forth, talking about their current projects and discussing potential avenues they could each take on them.

By the time Fitz’s head hits his pillow at the end of the day, his smile has yet to fade. For the first time since coming to the Academy, he’s truly looking forward to tomorrow, when he’ll get to see Jemma again and talk about their shared love of science some more.

Though he can’t possibly know it yet, the way his chest feels tight, as though there isn’t enough space inside of it to hold all of the warmth Jemma’s presence has brought him, is the first indication that what’s happened that day has changed the course of his life forever.

In fact, it’ll be many years before he truly understands just _how_ much.

-

He should’ve been in the lab, putting the finishing touches on their drones. He should’ve been back at their flat, watching old episodes of _Dr. Who_ and eating pizza. He should’ve been curled up in bed, catching up with the latest science journals.

He should’ve been _anywhere_ but this dumb party, stewing in a dark corner and feeling like he’s completely _invisible_. The music is thundering in his ears and all the people packed into the sparsely decorated, foreign flat are making him claustrophobic.

But, when the friends of Jemma’s latest flame had decided to throw him a birthday party, she’d been quick to make sure her best friend was invited as well. Fitz had tried to insist that he was just fine staying home (he and Xavier didn’t exactly get on well, and Fitz is almost positive the best friend-slash-roommate his girlfriend is attached to at the hip is the _last_ person he wants at his birthday party), but Jemma had been even _more_ insistent that he come. She’s always tried to force friendships between him and her boyfriends, but it never quite works out the way she wants, which is a constant source of frustration for her.

So, to save Jemma the stress, Fitz had just given in, and he didn’t exactly _regret_ it (if Jemma even _looked_ at him right, he’d be liable to give her his left kidney), but he isn’t feeling too great about the decision at the moment, drinking a warm beer and trapped on a couch between two couples that seem to be getting a bit _too_ cozy.

Just as he’s wondering how upset Jemma would be if she found out he’d fled the party (and trying to come up with the best course of action to curb her anger – going with her to that biology seminar she wouldn’t stop talking about is currently at the top of his list), Jemma herself appears in front of him, in the dim lighting seeming to materialize out of thin air.

“You’re not having fun, are you?” she asks abruptly, cheeks flushed red, though he can’t tell yet if it’s from irritation or alcohol.

“No no, I am,” Fitz lies quickly, waving his half-empty bottle pointedly.

Jemma sighs heavily, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting from foot to foot. After a moment, she blurts out, “I broke up with Xavier.”

Clumsily, Fitz fumbles up off the low couch and out from between the handsy couples, but he’s too concerned with a whole _new_ reason for a red-faced Jemma to really care about being graceful at the moment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she dismisses quickly, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.” He isn’t quite sure he believes her, but her next words sufficiently distract him, “Let’s just have fun, okay?”

“Shouldn’t we just leave?” Fitz asks hopefully, already inching toward the front door and freedom.

“Of course not.” Jemma grasps his hand, tugging him back the small distance he’d managed to gain. “You’ve had a miserable night, and I want you to enjoy this party. We never get out anymore.”

Fitz sighs, giving Jemma’s hand a little squeeze. “Honestly Simmons, I’d be happier just going home and watching a movie or something.” Her face falls, and something occurs to him. “Wait…did you not have any fun tonight either?”

She purses her lips unhappily, giving a small shake of her head. “Xavier spent most of his time taking shots with his friends and telling all the _same_ stories he always does, but they’re even worse when he’s wasted.” She sighs wistfully, throwing a glance over her shoulder toward the living room, where a group of couples are dancing. “He didn’t even dance with me _once_ , even though I asked.”

His immediate response is to go find dumb old _Xavier_ and teach him a little something about how to treat women – but, he figures that if he’d gotten dumped by Jemma, he already understands how much he’s screwed up more than Fitz could ever convey. So, instead, he hesitates briefly, then asks, “Do you…I mean, I’ll…um…dance with you, if you want.”

Jemma’s gaze shoots back to his face, her eyes wide and bright with excitement she is trying unsuccessfully to hide. “Oh Fitz, you don’t have to!”

“Oh don’t even pretend you don’t want to.” Chuckling at her guilty expression, Fitz abandons his beer on the closest table, then uses their joined hands to lead her back into the living room and directly into the middle of the crowd of dancing couples. She drops his hand in order to loop her arms around his neck, his hands finding her waist, and he can’t help but think that she’s so warm and soft and –

And he must’ve had more to drink than he’d realized if he’s thinking about Jemma like _that_.

Though, he has to admit that her fruity shampoo _does_ smell nice.

Then, of all things, she lays her cheek on his shoulder, and her mouth is so close to his ear that he can hear her content sigh over the nearly deafening music. Without consciously deciding to, Fitz allows his chin to rest on top of her head, and as his eyes fall closed, the party around them seems to melt away. The world narrows to him and Jemma, swaying to the beat of the slow song flowing around them.

All too soon, though, the song is over and Fitz finds that…he doesn’t want to let go of her. The way Jemma’s fingers are curled around the fabric of his shirt, it seems she feels the same way.

Slowly, she leans back until their gazes lock, and in that infinite moment, Fitz memorizes the way her dark eyes shine in the low light, the excited flush of her cheeks, the way her pale pink lips part to release a quiet breath. For one insane moment, he thinks to himself that if she kissed him then, he wouldn’t stop her.

“ _Jemma_!”

The moment is effectively shattered by Xavier’s booming voice, and Jemma quickly pulls away completely, leaving Fitz feeling strangely cold and empty. “Don’t bother; we’re _leaving_ ,” she tells her ex pointedly, grabbing Fitz’s hand once more and tugging him through the tightly-packed crowd of people.

“But _Jemma_!”

“I wouldn’t if I were you, mate,” Fitz advises him as he passes the poor sod, arching his eyebrows.

Strangely enough, he just barely catches Xavier’s mutter of, “Damn it, I _knew_ it,” but he doesn’t care enough to really question it.

Once they’re out of the stuffy house and into the cool night air, headed on the short walk back to their flat, Jemma releases a long sigh and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fitz assures her, gently removing his hand from her grip so that he can drape a comforting arm across her shoulders and tug her against his side. “He was a waste of your time anyway.”

Jemma nods in agreement against his shoulder. “Thanks,” she says after a moment.

“Anytime,” he promises seriously, squeezing her briefly against his side.

Though they never speak of it, Fitz never forgets what happened at that party, and the thought of what had almost happened (what he’d _wanted_ to happen) plagues him for years after. That night stands out in his memory as the night _something_ changed, something inside of him shifted – though it would be another year before he truly is able to recognize it for what it is.

-

The day Jemma turns twenty-six, she is strangely antsy all day. Though Fitz asks her about it over their typical birthday breakfast of pancakes, Jemma brushes it off, and they go about their day as normal, going to work and spending most of the day in the lab attempting to perfect the Night-Night Gun.

By the time they return to their shared flat and Jemma’s blown out the candle he’d stuck in a cupcake, she doesn’t seem able to hold it in anymore.

“Fitz, I want to take the offer,” she blurts out, smoke still curling from the burnt-out candle wick.

Fitz takes a deep, steadying breath, keeping his gaze locked on his own cupcake (which he no longer has any appetite for). “Simmons…”

“I know we discussed it and agreed to turn it down but…but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” She releases a shuddering breath, shifting anxiously in her seat on the couch beside him. “I want to go out in the field.”

“But _why_?” Fitz finally lifts his eyes to meet hers, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the hopeful, desperate, pleading expression on her face, eyes wide and earnest.

“Don’t you ever think about seeing the world? About the fact that, if we stay in the lab for the rest of our lives, we’re going to miss out on _so much_? We’re scientists, Fitz, and there’s an entire world out there that we’ve read about but never seen for ourselves. It’s so _sad_ when you think about it.”

Fitz sighs, setting his cupcake down on the coffee table so that he can clasp his hands together in his lap, dropping his gaze to watch them wringing together. “Yeah, maybe, but…but it’s the _field_ , Simmons. Constant, dangerous, life-threatening situations. I let you talk me into taking those field assessments, but we _failed_. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“But Agent Hill said that it didn’t _matter_ whether we passed or not, remember? We’d still be in the lab all day long, but it’d be on a plane traveling all over the globe.” Her voice is breathlessly excited, and Fitz lifts his head slightly to peek at her face. It’s full of wonder, of longing and exhilaration, her eyes sparkling with it.

His shoulders rise and fall with another, heavier sigh as he thinks it over. He likes their nice, safe lab with little to no chance of death or severe injury; he likes where they are now and what they do and doesn’t want things to change.

But, he also wants to make Jemma happy.

“Fitz,” she starts slowly after he’s been silent a long moment, “I…I’m going to take the offer. You can make your own decision, I’m not going to force you to choose either way, but…but I’m going. Of course it wouldn’t be the same without you, but…this is something I have to do.”

Fitz feels as though his stomach has dropped straight out of his body, and for a moment he’s convinced he’s about to be sick. He breathes deeply through his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and clasping his hands tightly together in his lap. Even though she hasn’t intended to, Jemma has issued him an ultimatum: leave the lab and enter into the unknown with her, or stay in the lab and watch her leave alone.

 _Of course_ , there’s no decision to make, not really. He’s known since he was sixteen that he would always want Jemma in his life and that he’d do anything to make sure that she continues to be. He doesn’t even want to imagine going out into the field and risking his life on a daily basis, but he _can’t_ imagine spending a day of his life without knowing that Jemma is his partner, without having her right there beside him.

So, he says the only thing he can, the only possible response there could be. “Okay. Okay, I’ll come with you.”

Fitz opens his eyes just in time to see the relieved, absolutely thrilled grin stretch across Jemma’s face, and though he’s terrified of what he’s just agreed to, an answering smile ticks his lips up at the corners. “Oh _Fitz_ , that’s wonderful! We’re going to have so much _fun_ , I just know it.” She surges across the space between them, all-but tackling him in a hug that knocks him back against the arm of the couch.

He catches her around the waist, chuckling as she squeezes him tightly. “Yeah yeah yeah, alright, I know you’re just happy ‘cause you got your way.”

“Well, it _is_ my birthday,” she reminds him, breaking away from the embrace and leaning back on her knees, still in his space but far enough away that he can see her teasing smile. “Shouldn’t I get to choose my gift?”

“Typically? No, you don’t choose what gifts you get for your birthday.” Grinning at the exaggerated eye-roll she gives, Fitz goes on, “But I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Thank you, Fitz,” she tells him sincerely, catching his hands in hers and squeezing them gratefully.

And just like that, Fitz follows Simmons unsuspectingly into the field, a decision that changes the course of their lives completely. Over the years following, after all of the pain and heartache they’ve endured, Fitz always seems to look back on this moment, wondering if he should’ve made a different decision, wondering where his life would be now if he had.

But the thing is, every time he tries to imagine it, he can’t. There truly had been only one decision he could’ve made that day, and Fitz knows that he could never regret following the path that kept Jemma in his life.

-

Nearly five months have come and gone, and the things that happened in the Framework still haunt his dreams, turning them to nightmares. There are some nights that he awakens in a cold sweat, convinced that there’s a monster slumbering inside of him, just waiting to escape and hurt those he loves most. But, he’s not alone, and on those nights, Jemma always seems to know he’s being plagued by doubts. Even half-asleep, she’ll wrap him up in her arms and whisper against the skin of his shoulder, his neck, his back that he is a good man, that he is not the Doctor, that his heart is only full of love, not hatred.

Fitz doesn’t know what he would do without Jemma (he hasn’t ever since he met her, actually, but each day that passes, the feeling only grows stronger). The amount of times she’s pulled him from the edge the past few months, there by his side so effortlessly and completely, is something he can never repay.

But, there’s a promise he made to her months ago now, when he wasn’t at his best and had a long road of healing ahead of him. Now that he’s travelled that road for some time, he knows he’s ready to fulfill that promise.

It’s only fitting, after all, that the incredible bond borne of a friendship started on Marie Curie’s birthday, all those years ago now, would be solidified on Pierre’s.

With the base still under reconstruction after Jemma and Daisy’s explosive escape months ago, they’ve been forced to do much of their lab work either on the Zephyr, or cramped into one of the little rooms in the back of the base that had been left untouched by the destruction.

Still, somehow, they manage to keep missing each other all day, leaving their off-base apartment at different times, both busy with other projects for Coulson, and it isn’t until late afternoon that Fitz finally catches her in the newly-designed commissary.

“I figured you’d be stopping by sooner or later,” she says by way of greeting, nodding to the kettle still on the burner.

“Thanks,” Fitz says gratefully, pouring himself a cup and taking it to sit down across from her at the island. There’s a comfortable silence between them for a few moments as they enjoy their tea, but he breaks it when he asks casually, “Any plans for tonight?”

Jemma glances up, a speculative expression on her face. “Oh, well, I figured we’d go home, curl up on the couch, and watch a film or something.” When Fitz hums vaguely, neither agreeing or disagreeing, she frowns and asks, “Why, did you have something else in mind?”

“Actually,” Fitz sets down his cup of tea, stretching across the table to clasp her left hand in his right, his thumb stroking the ring he’d offered her and she’d tearfully accepted. “I was thinking…we could get married.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rise, her lips parting as she sucks in a sharp breath. “Fitz…” she breathes, “Are you… I said I’d be fine waiting until –”

“I’m ready,” he assures her, a smile spreading across his lips. “There’s nothing I could ever imagine wanting more than for you to be my wife, Jemma.” He gives her hand a small squeeze. “But, if you want to wait and plan a wedding with flowers and a cake and bridesmaids –”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head as the corners of her mouth begin to twitch upward. “I don’t need any of that to make it perfect; all I need is you, us, forever.” She laughs softly as she tells him, “Yes Fitz, I’d love to marry you tonight.”

The rest of the day is spent preparing for the (quiet) event, and their overjoyed friends are more than happy to help them “ _finally_ ” tie the knot, especially Daisy – with an hour left before the planned time of the ceremony, she steals Jemma away from the base to go hunt for the perfect, simple wedding dress.

There’s a grassy little field about a ten minute drive from the Playground where they intend to have the ceremony, and when they arrive, the sun is dipping low over the horizon, setting the sparse clouds in the sky aflame in oranges and pinks.

“Good thing there was no rain in the forecast,” Mack comments, patting Fitz on the shoulder. “I’d hate to see your big day get rained out.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” Fitz admits, shrugging, “All that matters is that I’m marrying Jemma.”

Mack smiles at that, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before stepping away and saying lowly, “I think it’s time, Turbo.”

At that, Fitz hastily turns to face the road, to see that the second SUV Daisy had commandeered has pulled up. Before the doors open, he makes sure to take a couple extra deep breaths; he has the feeling it’ll be difficult to find his breath all too soon.

And sure enough, as Daisy comes hurrying around the front of the SUV to help Jemma out of the passenger side, and then Jemma appears, his lungs seem to forget how to function. She’s absolutely _breathtaking_ , beautiful, incredible, perfect, and about a thousand other adjectives he can’t quite think of at the moment because _Jemma Simmons is marrying him_.

Daisy hurries over to join the rest of them, and then Jemma crosses the field to them, the most brilliant smile on her lips as the hem of her dress glides over the grass. It’s a simple dress, a lacy top with a flowing skirt, but to Fitz, it’s the most beautiful dress he’s ever laid eyes on.

The ceremony itself is a blur, mostly because Fitz spends the time staring into Jemma’s eyes, knowing that this incredible woman has forgiven him for things he still struggles to forgive himself for, that she’s stood by his side all these years, that she sees something in him that she sees worthy of loving, of _marrying_. He still doesn’t believe he’s done enough (or ever will do enough) to deserve her, but the way she’s gazing at him then, an indescribable amount of pure _love_ written plainly in her watery eyes, in her smile…he thinks that maybe he could begin to.

Then, Fitz hears those words, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” and he and Jemma grin at each other through the tears, letting out disbelieving little laughs that after all this time they’re actually _here_ , they’re actually _married_. And then Jemma’s in his arms, and they’re both smiling into their first kiss as husband and wife, and he can’t imagine experiencing a more perfect moment.

It’s by far the best day of his life, marrying his best friend and the love of his life, and Fitz can’t imagine that anything could _ever_ top it, or even come close – what could possibly compare to the pure joy and complete and utter love bursting inside of him at that moment?

-

For the first ten years of his life, it was never a reason to celebrate (there seldom was any reason to celebrate), and no matter how hard his mum tried, by the time he was allowed to enjoy being a kid and celebrating his birthday, it was far too late.

Having Jemma had helped – sometimes, she ‘d even managed to get a bit of excitement for the occasion out of him, but his feelings toward the day never truly changed.

Until the day he turns thirty-one, and suddenly, it’s the most important birthday in the world.

There are tears in his eyes and his heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s not sure it’s ever felt this _full_ before, as though it’s about to burst because one single organ can’t hold so much _love_ inside of it. How can this be possible? How can he feel so _much_ for someone he’s just met?

But staring at the tiny, wrinkled pink form in his wife’s arms, Fitz decides that it doesn’t need to make sense. All he knows is that this little human being has been made from the love he and Jemma share, that they’ve brought this new person into the world, and she is perfect.

“I know,” Jemma says softly, and Fitz tears his eyes away from their daughter to glance at her understanding smile. “I can’t believe we made something so perfect either.”

Even after all these years, Jemma still manages to catch him off-guard sometimes, her thoughts so utterly in-tune with his. “Well, to be fair, you did most of the work.”

“True,” she chuckles, “but, you were there with me every step of the way.”

“S’my job,” Fitz brushes off the praise with a shrug. What else could he have possibly have done? And honestly, where else in the world would he rather have been than at his wife’s side as she prepared to bring their daughter into the world?

Jemma smiles warmly, but Fitz notices her slow blinks, the way her entire body seems to be sagging with exhaustion.

“You should get some sleep,” he advises, standing from his seat beside her narrow hospital bed and reaching out to oh so carefully extricate their daughter from her arms.

“I’m awake,” she insists, though she doesn’t put up much of a fight, her arms flopping to her sides the second they are empty.

Fitz perches lightly on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to press a loving kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep, Jemma. She’ll still be here when you wake up, I’ve got her.”

“I know,” she sighs heavily, slumping back against the pillows and allowing her eyelids to slip closed. “There’s no one I’d trust more with my children.”

“Well that’s good to know, given that you chose to reproduce with me.” A tiny smile curves her lips, and Fitz chuckles. “Sleep well, Jem. I love you. So _much_. And just…thank you.”

“Mmm, was my pleasure,” Jemma hums out, already seeming half-asleep. “Love you too.” She goes quiet for a moment, and Fitz thinks she’s finally fallen asleep, but then she adds in barely more than a whisper, “Happy Birthday, Fitz.”

Her breathing evens out, indicating that she’s truly is asleep now, and Fitz watches her for a moment, her chest rising and falling. Sometimes, he can’t believe how much he loves this woman, but it’s daily that he can’t believe that such an extraordinary, truly awe-inspiring woman loves him just as much in return.

Then, he lowers his gaze to the bundle in his arms, their daughter, one half of him and one half of Jemma. She’s beautiful, fast asleep just like her mother, little eyelids flickering and tiny lips parted, a tuft of dark hair just barely visible from underneath the blanket. Carefully, he shifts her weight to rest in one arm, freeing the other so that he can stroke the backs of his fingers over her soft cheek, can allow her tiny little fingers to curl around his index finger.

Overwhelmed with pure and unadulterated love for her, Fitz squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the tears and bends down to plant a kiss on her little forehead. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

Of all the birthdays that have changed his life over the years, _this_ is by far the most important.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr (I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well), where I tend to post way more fic (shhh I'm lazy about titles)!


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